ISOLATION: Child Support 911

by Tabitha White

  “Okay so it’s hidden then what?” Tammy asked

  “If memory serves me correctly from business classes, the money then has to get ‘layered or structured’ as they call it. This stage, the most complex, most often plays out on an international level; which explains Candy’s numerous trips. Separating the money from its source at this point in money-laundering signals completion.”

  “How would she do that?” Tammy asked.

  “Well there’s many ways. She could invest in multiple offshore investments, or wire transfer the money into multiple other companies where she and Martin had sole access to them. They could then engineer bank loans for each of these companies, like yours, that needed money for equipment or cars. It’s a deliberate attempt to make multiple wire transfers to blur the trail to the source of money. Now it’s clear why they scammed people out of their companies.”

  “I remember Martin talking with my ex-husband about his great art collection. You know what; Candy acting as chairperson of the art auction makes sense now.” Tammy said.

  “Art! Yes art. That’s a prime example of how they can layer it. They purchase fake art masterpieces for a large amount of money from a shell company. Someone working with them pays them back 85% of their money and the art seller keeps fifteen percent. They have the art to prove it and then relayer the money back to the original launderer, Martin, Candy or Craig through the shell businesses they own here or John’s automotive dealership. It’s brilliant, I’ll give them that!”

  “That’s great but how do we prove it?”

  “We won’t. If they’re laundering money, they’ve covered all their tracks. In the last stage, the integration stage, let’s use the example of them purchasing automobiles or equipment from John. They purchase a car from John for $40,000 using $10,000 cash from the money they layered back into the shell business. Subsequently they can sell the car for market value and accept the loss in value as the price of having clean money.”

  “Brilliant! It makes sense now! It’s like my husband, Al, always said, ‘Take a different way home from work and the answer will come to you.’ Kudos to Al.”

  “Let’s look closer at the other two pawns in the puzzle; Candy and John. What would John gain? Money makes sense; he receives an annual disbursement from his trust account. Therefore, what provides a strong motive besides money for him? Angie said pacing the floor.

  Tammy followed suit and began naming emotions.

  “Insanity, sexuality, bliss or how about vengeance?” Tammy said questioning her own statements.

  “Wait a minute! Hold the phone! I’ve got it Tammy, look-up the yearbook online, for Detroit High School, 1978. Look him up, I’ll bet I know what motivates him toward gain! Now it makes sense why he reaches out to any woman who will look his way!”

  “Okay, give me just a minute here.”

  Tammy depresses the button on the computer and within moments the desktop files have populated and she begins to surf through years of online editions of Detroit High School yearbooks until she reached 1978. Angie busies herself deep in thought giving the carpet fibers a run for their money in a 10X8 walking path.

  “Angie look at those glasses! Hmm, his fashion choices remain questionable to say the least.”

  “Okay now zoom in on his eyes.” Angie said riding on the back of adrenaline.

  “Jeepers! That’s a humdinger of a lazy eye there! Did you know about this?”

  “I had my suspicions when I met him years ago in the club. He always seemed desperate and willing to take any woman who would look his way. The writing sat there on the wall, I just needed to take a closer look.” Angie said.

  “Okay, now we know he lacked confidence in high school because of a lazy eye and thick glasses; what now? He’s helping them in their money-laundering scheme, but why? What motivates John?”

  “Tammy, John’s easy. Our suspicions about him proved correct, we erred in our execution. Loneliness amounts to pain for John and the scent of a woman; gain. I’m certain on how to persuade John to our corner.”

  “Please fill me in here, I’m clueless!” Tammy said.

  “Just as we planned in the beginning; the scent of a woman. We’re sending his crazy-ass to the dogs!”

  Chapter 31

  Tammy and Angie discussed yesterday’s events among themselves so as not to disturb the boys as they still slept. The sun began to crest above the East Coast skyline while both women’s minds explored the infinite possibilities before them.

  “You know what we need to do now don’t you?” Tammy said.

  “Yes I do. I stayed up all-night rehearsing this in my mind. I’m expecting questions and prepared viable answers so as not to raise any red flags.”

  Angie picked up her cell phone and depressed the numerals 779-0533. Clearing her throat did not turn out as easy a task as she expected. With a throat full of the nights mucous, she ran for the bathroom, spat in the sink, and turned on the warm water to discard any remnants of her body’s maladies.

  “Jaid, good morning it’s Angie. Do you have a minute? Something has come up, sorry to bother you before court, but I will need the services of your bounty hunter Chase. Can I get his number?”

  “Morning Angie. Sure, not a problem, you can reach him at 293-0778. Try him now I just spoke with him.”

  “Thanks Jaid, I appreciate it. I’ll talk with you later.”

  “I’ll talk to you then. Bye.” Jaid said.

  Angie hung up her phone by folding down the upper half onto the lower half. Then in one felled-swoop, she flipped the top up and began dialing. As the phone rang, she peered out the window while tapping each finger on her right hand to her thumb in a nervous twitch.

  “Chase Anderson here, how can I help you?”

  “Chase, hello, I’m Angelina Steadfast, a client of Jaid’s. I need to hire you as a bounty hunter, do you have any availability?”

  “Yes ma'am I’m available, what type of bounty?”

  “Well…”

  Chase and Angelina spoke about the details of Angie’s intended mission while Tammy replaced Angie in the nervous pacing romp. Just as Tammy began to turn around for another jaunt four red-rimmed slits appeared at the entrance to the kitchen.

  “Morning sleepyhead’s; ready for breakfast?” Tammy asked.

  Angie quickly folded down the upper-half of the phone, reopened it, and dialed a number. She left the kitchen trying to shield the boys from any knowledge of the illicit affairs she and Tammy had uncovered. Her other nervous twitch took over as she twirled her hair in a figure eight pattern between her index and middle fingers of her right hand.

  “Hello?”

  “Hi. I’m Angelina Steadfast and I believe we need to talk.”

  “I believe we have mutual interests. Correct me if I’m wrong; this pertains to embezzlement, your ex-husband, Craig, Martin and my accounts. If I’m correct, Martin and Craig framed you as the fall-guy. Does that sound correct?” Anthony asked.

  “Yes it does. We both have mutual interests here and I’m certain we can come to a happy resolution that would never require putting you in the spotlight. However, I refuse to fall because of their illegal actions.” Angie said.

  “Ms. Steadfast, may I call you Angie?” Anthony asked.

  “Yes, please do.”

  “Angie, I became suspicious of Martin and Craig recently. I don’t respect people who steal from the mouth that breathed life into their business years ago.”

  “I’m in a precarious position as Craig left us destitute. My lone goal now, raise $9,000 so I don’t lose my home for my son and me. In the process, I’ve found legal evidence pointing toward Craig and Martin embezzling from you. They then forced legitimate business owners out of their businesses where they’d swoop in and buy them for pennies on the dollar and use these businesses as money laundering layering points.”

  “Please accept my apology on behalf of decent men for what Craig did to you and Lance. Perhaps we could reach a business arrangement and agreement.
As a businessperson, I’m sure you can understand the sensitivity of my dealings. Complete silence about these business transactions remains imperative. Nevertheless, I realize your precarious crisis and its trump positon. Would you like to meet and perhaps discuss any available options?” Anthony asked.

  “Yes, I would as I can sense that we both appreciate each other’s precarious positions. Where should we meet?” Angie asked.

  “How about my families’ restaurant; Vitale’s Italian Bistro on Woodward in Royal Oak?”

  “Sounds great, say in a half hour?”

  “I’m looking forward to it. I’ll see you there.” Anthony said.

  Chapter 32

  Sam noticed a pair of blues walking toward Jaid’s office entrance door. Nervous because of their appearance he exited the room and busied himself in a storage room. Jaid stood up as the officers approached.

  “Officer how can I help you?”

  “We’re looking for Jaid Wood.”

  “That’s me.”

  “Did you represent Craig Freeman as counsel in a Child Services case?”

  “Yes I did. Does this pertain to his disappearance?”

  “We’re checking all of Craig Freeman’s contacts for the last week in his cell phone. That’s what led us to you.”

  “He and I did exchange phone calls this week. However, I no longer represent him. Events transpired that put a strain on our attorney-client relationship and I severed all ties with him.”

  “When did this happen?” asked the officer.

  “Tuesday of this week. After severing these ties, I then began representing his ex-wife and child in a custody hearing. Craig had set the court date in question and it came and went without him appearing for court.”

  “You don’t say.”

  “Officer this guy’s ruthless. He fed me a line of bull about his ex-wife, which none the wiser, I accepted as truth. Come to find out, in court right before the judge, he lied. He doesn’t care who he hurts, just as long as he benefits in some way from the trash that falls from his mouth.”

  “Harsh words for an attorney.” The detective said.

  “Perhaps, but he’s a harsh man. He had no trouble walking away from his son and ex-wife leaving them destitute. I’d say that’s cruel wouldn’t you? He filed the motion for a court date to dismiss the mother’s parental rights on the grounds that she’s an unfit mother. He never mailed her copies to her last known address; an automobile and the local shelter. As a result of his intentional negligence, he allowed the home to go in foreclosure. Pushing up the court date, he intended to have her rights relinquished, to him. He never intended to take care of his son. He planned on using use him as a bargaining chip. He’d ask her to sign-off on the $50,000 he owes her in child support in return for custody of their son.”

  “I’d have to agree with you, throw him to the wolves. How did you find out he went missing?”

  “His girlfriend showed up for the custody hearing looking for him. She told me he’d not returned from the previous night.”

  “By girlfriend you mean Brittney Bloodroot?”

  “Yes I believe that’s her last name. She appeared in the court lobby, frantic, on the court date without him. She wondered if he went to the court without her. Someone directed her to talk with Chase Anderson.”

  “He’s the private investigator that’s employed here by you under Big Sky Bail Bonds.”

  “That’s correct.”

  “Do you know the whereabouts of Angelina Steadfast?”

  “Angelina worked here for a short time for me. As far as I know now she’s living at her home.”

  “I’ll need her address, you can write it down on my card. Meanwhile, if she stops by let her know that Agent Ty would like to speak with her? Here’s my card.”

  Jaid took the card and wrote down Angie’s address.

  “I’ll do that.”

  “Thank you for your time. Have a good day.”

  Sam remained in the storage room in the furthest corner of Jaid’s office. After the officer left Jaid approached the door and asked, “Why did you come back here?”

  Amid tense nerves Sam said, “I wanted to see if we needed any supplies; I knew you could handle the blues.”

  Chapter 33

  “Damn, I’ll do this whether you fight me groveling for your life, or not. I plan to enjoy every bloody moment of this, even the grave difficulty. My actions will test your strength. Remember, when you can’t bear the excruciating pain, you brought this on yourself. The sweet sounds of cracking bones. You’ll receive the gift of knowledge during your stay here at the fool-pool. It will rest in your head as synapses in your brain fire and pop. Effervescence exudes you in your arena of pain as you in this your darkest hour, complete me. The stinging clanks of those damn wind chimes feel like knives cutting me again and again.”

  “Craig! Wake up boy! You got your ears on? Why don’t you answer me when I’m talking to you? Perhaps I should bring you some food. Wait, you had some of that squishy pink stuff that resembles brain matter while half coherent yesterday. The questions about your decrepit behavior keep circling in my brain like sharks circling blood. Do you want a little Jim Beam or Jack Daniels to kill the burn? Have you ever shown remorse? You’ve presented me with a quandary; if I leave you in agonizing pain, your heart may fail. At that juncture, I’d lose the pleasure of inflicting small and subtle increments of pain. Cowboy, I intend to inflict debilitating jabs at you for two more weeks without raising any suspicion. Did I mention on my way in, I spied two wolves getting restless? As they salivated at your metallic blood and decaying flesh I felt their anticipation linger like thick San Francisco fog. The damn wolves and coyotes; it’s a full-time job just keeping them at bay. Perhaps I’ll let them feast and rip the flesh from your limbs. However, as blood pumped from your heart and oozed with continued pulsation you’d finally bleed out. You resemble a chess game thrown in a bag; one big mess of cracked, and pulverized bones.”

  A low guttural groan escapes Craig’s mouth behind an inarticulate moan.

  “Awe come on dude don’t wake up now. I’m just about to spray the cement. I need to make sure your pulverized wrist will stay in the Styrofoam form behind it. Since there’s no solid bone left in it, you’re going to want to get a rod put in there, somewhat expensive but I can give you the name of a good surgeon. Stapling your arm in the Styrofoam form will allow it to hold.”

  Abrupt metallic popping noises intertwined with a few lone plonking sounds echoed from a heavy-duty electric staple gun as it bridged the deep crevasse between Craig’s pulverized wrist and the Styrofoam surrounding it.

  “Get ready here comes your surprise!”

  Gravel and rocks tumbled in the hose as intermittent clicks occurred from small rocks colliding. Without notice, the machine belched a wheeze. Continuous sputtering followed as the slurry mixture of gunite began to entomb Craig. First, a fine spray; similar to a lawn hose misting the flowers, then copious amounts of rocks and gravel provide the equivalent feeling of a sandstorm.

  “Don’t move around. You don’t want to get this stuff in your eyes. Hell it’ll cement them shut! Shit we don’t want that to happen.”

  The machine roars to a close as the humming motor winds down slow.

  “Shit that damn arm keeps falling out. I’ll just keep it in place with a 2X4.”

  A distinct growling and droning of the compressor motor sounds. A few quick popping sounds occur before jerking movements in Craig’s leg then on again goes the hum of the motor on the gunite machine.

  “There we go. We have you tucked in snug, like a bug in a rug. Isn’t that cool refreshing feeling wonderful? You must feel warm in this 14 degree heat-wave we’re experiencing.”

  “Waking up now sleepyhead?”

  A low groan escaped Craig’s mouth as if in slow motion. His head jerked but moved a meager amount left then right as the realization set in he had a quarter inch between his head and the Styrofoam. At last, he felt the gunite covering his
body.

  “What’s your name? Where have you brought me? Why the hell can’t I move?” Craig asked in a bewildered tone.

  “Why would I tell you where you are? Did you ever watch the Twilight Zone? This will appear comparable, saturated with overtones of reform camp. You’re here because of the crude manner in which you and your relatives treat people. It’s judgment day. You’ll feel the wrath as I seize the moment.”

  “You mean HELL?” Craig asked.

  “You tell me? Have you done something to deserve HELL? Given one chance to explain your actions to our maker, what would you say? On the other hand, would you rather beg for mercy? Would you try to make a deal if the all-seeing eyes of the maker looked into your soul? What would he find? Sluggish maggots? As wicked truth purged from your soul the lightning would flash and the thunder would roar. The unleashed lion would place his wrath on you as the air chilled. Then like the fiery dragon that spit from deep inside Mt. Vesuvius, ash and molten lava would encapsulate you where you stood. Your flesh becoming glowing red would melt, exposing bones pitted with venom allowing generations to see you for the monster you became. Do you think you deserve hell? Your stream of consciousness followed by streams of unconsciousness remains a surefire way of knowing you’re in HELL. Why, have you seen Dante?”

  “HELP!” Craig screams.

  The torturer mocked Craig’s screams of help amid a deep laugh.

  “Did your victims cry for help? Did you scowl and laugh as they plead for their dignity or their lives? Did you laugh in their innocent and angelic faces while rust and vinegar stirred about in your veins? Your father’s will cowboy; where’s the will? I need to know where you hid the original will.”

  “You’re whacked man why do you have me as a prisoner here?”

  “Truth outside the phone booth I know what you both did. Start from the beginning and tell me the truth. You have two choices; my way or the highway.”

  “Show me your face. Why stand behind me where I can’t see you? I’m suspended in the side of a pool? How the hell…get me out of here or I’ll…”